I am a Slave
by islashlove
Summary: Dean finds himself inside an old church talking to a priest.


**Disclaimer: I do not own anything that is from Supernatural**

 **Warning: None.**

 **Beta: Yes, I would like to say thank you to my Beta jerseybelle for all her hard work.**

 **Author's Notes: This story has been done for a word challenge. The word is 'Slave'.**

 **Story Notes: Dean finds himself inside an old church talking to a priest.**

 **I am a Slave**

 **Chapter 1: To the Life I live**

As the Impala pulled up outside the church, Dean couldn't help but think how small it looked against the tall buildings which surrounded it. He just sat there staring, studying it. By the looks of it, the church was built when the city was still a quaint country town. Back when life was so much easier.

Dean wasn't sure why he was here. All he knew was that he climbed into Baby and started to drive and drive he did. When he stopped he was in front of this church. Reaching over, Dean lovingly caressed Baby's dashboard.

"Are you trying to tell me something, Baby?" And as if it was answering, Baby's engine stopped purring. Smiling, Dean let out a sigh. Gripping the steering wheel, he looked over at the church one more time before opening the door and climbing out. After locking Baby, Dean lent over the roof and whispered. "I get it, Baby. I'll go in, but I wouldn't promise anything." With that, Dean pat the roof, turned around and walked towards the church.

Walking in, Dean listened to the echo of his feet on the wooden floor. Looking around, he could see that the church was empty. Not just void of people, but also of other things the big churches have. Simple things, for a simple church. He made his way down to the third row and took a seat and sat there.

The sounds of his ragged deep breath and heartbeat echoed hard in Dean's ears. He didn't know why churches made him like this, nervous, but they did, even before they knew that angels and God was real. Trying to steady his nerves, he looked around the church a bit more.

In front of him were two more rows of seats. They weren't fancy, just simple timber seats, in fact, everything in the church was simple. There was a plain stage with a small stand for the preacher's notes. A small raised area where the local choir would stand and on the other side was a small, quaint pump organ. The only thing that wasn't simple, was the cross with Jesus.

It hung centre on the back wall with a few candles that were lit and on each side was a short stone pillar with a bowl on top. One for baptisms and the other was a backup. In all, it was just a small simple church that time seemed to have forgotten as the world outside changed around it.

Taking a deep breath, Dean closed his eyes and savoured the smell of unsettled dust and pine. It took his mind back to a much simpler time when Sam was a baby, his dad was stoking the fire and he was snuggled into his mother's lap. But this moment was shortly lived.

"May I help you, my son?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and he quickly turned to where he heard a voice coming from. Standing beside him was an old priest with a grey beard and bushy hair; he was dressed in the old time black robes. He had kind, dark blue eyes and a face full of wrinkles, giving the impression that he had lived for a long time.

Clearing his thought, Dean answered. "Sorry Father, I didn't mean to disturb you. I will leave."

Dean moved to stand up, but found the priest's hand on his shoulder, which was barely touching him, but put his whole body at ease, so he sat back down.

"I can see that something is troubling you, my child. So tell me, what has brought an honourable man as yourself, who has rarely entered a church in his life, to my humble church."

"My car, actually," Dean replied with a small smile that was answered with an understanding smile. Clearing his throat again, Dean continued. "Honourable! Me?" He then turned his head back to look at the cross with Jesus on it.

"You do not see yourself as an honourable or a righteous man?"

"No! No I don't. I do things...I've done things that ..." Dean let out a deep breath. He was trying to find the right word. It was on the tip of his tongue, he just couldn't say it.

"You feel like it wasn't worth it?" Dean looked back at the priest, it was like he knew what he was thinking. "Like...you are a slave to the life you live."

"Yes! A slave. That's it." Dean breathed out as he looked at the back of the seat in front of him. "And I can't break free of it."

"We are all slaves to…something in our lives. Most people now days are slave to modern technology. I...even though I chose and love my life, am a slave to this church. Even God is a slave to the people here on earth. A slave to their prayers."

Dean let out a small huff, "Might be why he's abandoned us. We demanded too much from him. I wish I could just...disappear."

"Tell me what you think you are a slave to?"

Dean sat there for a second thinking. What was he a slave to? "My brother. To a promise I made to my father. My father's and mother's family legacies. To...to the demons in my mind."

"That is a lot to deal with. Do you know what allows us to be slave to such things?"

"A weak will."

"No!" Dean looked back at the old priest. He looked deep into those eyes that seemed to have to the whole universe in them. "Do you see yourself as a weak person?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer yes, but closed it just as quickly. He wasn't weak, he knew that. Looking back at the cross he answered. "No, I'm not weak, but ..."

"But...but what? Becoming a slave to something isn't a sign of weakness, Dean. It depends on what you become a slave to. Are you truly a slave to the promise you made to your father? To look after your brother or would you have just done that anyway?"

"I...I guess I would have always done it."

"And the rest? Do you really think that if your mother hadn't been killed by Azazel, if she hadn't made that deal with him that...that yours and Samuel's lives would have been any different?"

"No! Somewhere down the track we would've ended up hunting. I just...I'm tired and ..."

"Yes, you are tired and soon you will rest, but I don't think that it's not you who is a slave to the things you do, but they are a slave to your will to survive."

"You might be right there, Father, but...wait...how do you ..." Dean turned, a confused look on his face, only to find the priest gone. "Wha …?"

Dean looked around the church in a frantic manner. The priest was gone. Not anywhere to be seen. Did he just imagine it? How else could the priest know his name, Sammy's name and all the rest about his life? Right, it was just his imagination.

Dean stood to leave. It was now he realised that he had a warm spot on his shoulder, like someone had just had their hand resting there. Shaking his head, Dean made his way to the door. Turning around, he took one more look at the cross. He smiled as, for the first time, he saw the framed picture of the priest that he had just been talking to.

Nodding, he whispered, "Well God, maybe you haven't abandoned us after all. Thank you!" Dean then headed out to the Impala.

"Well, Baby, that helped me a lot, thank you." He kissed the top of the door, before climbing in and starting the engine.

Just before he drove off, Dean looked over to the church one more time to find it gone. Just another modern building standing there. Somehow, Dean wasn't surprised. It seemed that even the city was a slave to changing with the times.

And with that, Dean headed home with a lighter heart and soul.

 **The End**

 **Thank you for reading and for reviewing my story.**


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